


And The Beat Goes On

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Game Grumps, Jacksepticeye - RPF, Markiplier - RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Awkwardness, First Time, Head Injury, Loss of Magical Control, M/M, Magic, Pining, Two Good Witches, alcohol mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 21:53:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11906943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: When Jack was seven months old, he screamed and every piece of glass in the house shattered.The new local witch meets the local barista.Things don't go as well as they should.





	And The Beat Goes On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HerbertBest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerbertBest/gifts).



> Edited by Angel! Thank you, darling!

When Jack was seven months old, he screamed and every piece of glass in the house shattered.

It had been… unexpected, to be sure - magic had run in their family, to a certain extent, but his sister could make things float, and his eldest brother sometimes dreamed stuff before it happened. 

But then again, Jack didn’t do anything in half measures, and never had. 

The magic manifested itself in other ways, as he got older.

His earliest deliberate magic; he was listening to his mother’s heartbeat, clapping his hands in the same rhythm, and he boiled the water in the vase of flowers next to them. 

And it just got… more so.

Which led to now.

Being in his twenties, in a new country, in a new coven. 

Percussive magic, they called it, although the head witch had been a bit… lost, because that kind of magic was usually found in dancers, but Jack tripped over his own feet.

So Los Angeles, for its thriving mage community, and also because if Jack was gonna go to the US, he might as well try the glitz and glam, right?

* * *

Jack stumbled into the coffee shop, water dripping off of his hair, his clothes, his everything.

There were three guys behind the counter, in various forms of bored - Jack knew two of them.

Arin and Dan were both dating in the coven - Arin had recently gotten together with Suzy, and Holly was dating Dan. 

And then there was the other guy.

Who was... holy shit.

"Are you new?" Jack blurted out, as he pulled out the package from his special bag, handing it to Arin, his eyes on the new guy. 

"Yep," said the guy.

He was very handsome, with dark hair and the kind of muscles that were made to be clung to by women in chainmail bikinis.

Or Jack. 

He'd cling to them. He might even consider the chainmail bikini. 

"What's your name?"

"I'm Mark," he said, and Jack smiled at him.

"I'm a witch," Jack said, out of the blue, and already he was kicking himself.

Why had he said that?

Was it _really_ necessary?

"What, really?" Mark raised an eyebrow. "Another one?"

"We get a lot of 'em here," said Dan, as he did something with a milk frother. "There's a few covens that meet up around here." He smiled at Jack, with his kind eyes, and Jack smiled back in spite of himself. "You're the new guy that Holly was talking about, right? The music guy?"

"Percussive," Jack said, and he was blushing a bit. "Although it's a bit more than that."

"Percussive?" 

Mark rested his elbows on the counter, and he had an eyebrow up. 

"Oh, yeah," said Jack. "There's a million different types of magic. I just have, uh... the weirder kind."

"What can you do?"

"I make things happen," said Jack, and he was grinning wildly. "With beats."

"So you're a DJ?"

"I could just show you," Jack said brightly, and he pulled his drumsticks out of his back pocket.

He had a million different pairs of them, all made of different wood for different spells, but in general it was just his drum sticks.

Mark looked around - the place was pretty much empty, apart from a lone person on a laptop with a cup of coffee in front of them, typing very fast.

"What kinda magic do you want me to do?"

Jack was searching with his magic, reaching out for the familiar beats around him.

There was his heartbeat, and that was as familiar as his breath, and he focused on that, beginning to tap on the counter.

Okay, so maybe he should have worked on knowing what kind of spell he was doing, before he started getting primed up, but still.

He glanced up at Mark, and he smiled wide, all teeth.

Mark smiled back, looking amused but unimpressed.

"Warm up my cup of tea," he told Jack, indicating the mug sitting in front of him.

It had a squirrel wearing a crown emblazoned across it, for some reason. 

"Done and done," Jack said.

He started to drum on the counter.

He followed the beat in his heart, picking up on the bubbling of a percolator, and he could feel Arin's heart, Dan's, beating slow and calm, and the writer was beating a little faster, which let in another bit of change to the rhythm, until he was lost in it, stomping his feet in time, and he looked down at the tea, which was beginning to steam, and then he looked up at Mark, meeting those beautiful brown eyes....

Jack's heart skipped a beat, which made him trip over his stomping beat, which made his drums falter, which made Mark's mug crack in half.

Which... welp. 

"Um," said Jack. "At least all the tea boiled away, so that means there's no mess, right?" 

He smiled nervously at Mark.

His hands were still itching for the beat, his whole body on edge, wanting to keep going, to work some kind of bigger magic. 

"... right," said Mark. "Don't you have other deliveries to make?"

"Right, right," said Jack. "I'll be back though, I promise!" 

He winked at Mark.

Mark continued to look unimpressed. 

* * *

"You really fucked that one up," said Arin, as Jack sat on Holly's couch, drinking his own tea.

She was trying to teach him other kinds of magic, so that he could do it quietly, so that it wouldn't take hold of his whole body. 

It was hard. 

Physically painful, and emotionally distressing. 

His magic wanted out, and it wanted out _now_.

But it was a lot... well, a lot of sitting still and just listening, and not doing anything with what he heard, just absorbing it.

By the end of it all, he was a mess, and now he was shaking so hard that his tea was sloshing.

At least he hadn't broken anything recently.

Apart from Mark's mug.

And now he was thinking about it again, and he was blushing. 

"I didn't do it on purpose," Jack mumbled. "I don't even know if he likes dudes -"

"He's bi, I think," said Dan, wrapping an arm around Holly. 

Suzy rubbed Jack's head, and Jack leaned into the affection. 

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm a mess."

"You're not a mess," said Holly. "You've got a crush and did something dumb."

"You ever done a stupid magic thing?"

"Oh yeah," said Holly, and she grinned. "We've all done some super dumb magic stuff."

"Didn't you and Arin get together because you needed some cum?" Jack glanced over at Suzy.

"It sounds so... gross when you put it like that," said Arin, making a face.

"It was for a rare orchid," Suzy said defensively.

"Tell Mark you need some of his jizz for something," said Dan, in a sage tone. "You're cute. He'd totally be willing."

Jack snorted, leaning back.

"I'll at least get the guy a new mug," said Jack. "I could have tried my fixing magic -"

" _No!_ ," said Holly and Suzy at the same time. 

"... is it that bad?"

"You still need practice," said Suzy, "and if you're trying to figure out how to impress the guy, accidentally encasing him in ceramics is not the way to do it." 

"I'd probably only turn the whole counter into ceramic," Jack said, and he chuckled. "At least I'd probably get the glaze right."

“This is a mug, not a cake,” said Dan.

“Mugs have glazes,” said Suzy. “It’s why they’re so smooth.”

"Still," said Jack, and he was wearing a thoughtful expression, "that might be the right track."

"Please don't turn my whole job into some kind of weird place full of pottery golems," said Arin, slumping back into the chair, pulling Suzy closer into his lap.

"Aren't all golems made of pottery?"

"No," said Holly, and she was looking slightly queasy. "They can be made of other stuff."

"Like what?"

"Trash, water, stone, old clothing, used kitty litter -"

" _What?!_ " Jack wrinkled his nose.

"It was in Echo Harbor," Holly said, by way of explanation.

"Well, I mean, Echo Harbor," said Jack. "All the weird shit happens there."

"Aren't you from there?"

"I've got family from there," Jack allowed.

"That explains everything," Arin said. 

Jack stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry. 

Arin blew one back.

* * * 

Jack came back to the coffee shop three days later, and he was holding a specially wrapped package.

Mark was standing there, fiddling with his phone.

The store was, once again, dead.

Nobody wanted to get coffee at seven in the evening, it seemed, although the owner of the coffee shop seemed to not understand that.

"Hello again," said Mark,, and he didn't look... unhappy to see Jack, which was something, right?

It was better than nothing, at any rate.

"Hi," said Jack. "I've, um... I've got a package."

"I would assume so," said Mark dryly. "What with you being a courier and whatnot." 

"No, like... I wasn't paid for this delivery," said Jack. 

"So why are you delivering it?" 

"What?"

"You shouldn't work for free," said Mark. "Value your own labor and all that."

Jack stood there, and he blinked.

His heart was beating faster.

"It's a present for you," said Jack.

"Oh," said Mark, and was he... blushing?

Jack put the carefully wrapped package on the counter in front of Mark, trying not to look too expectant, trying not to bounce in place.

Mark grabbed the brown paper, and he tore it open.

It was a small box, and the thing inside of it was heavy.

When Mark opened the box, he raised an eyebrow, and then he met Jack's eyes, and he smiled, so genuinely that it went all the way to his eyes, and Jack's heart skipped a beat, as his magic pulsed around him like the music in a club.

It was a mug.

Jack had painted squirrels on it, squirrels running through flowers, bright sploshes of color to compliment the grey-brown fur. 

He'd painted a crown along the handle. 

"Wow," said Mark. "Did you do this with magic?" 

"No," Jack said, and he held his hands out, wriggling his fingers, not sure why, not sure how to stop. "Just my fingers."

"Still getting used to the magic?"

"Let me have a second chance," Jack said impulsively.

"What?" Mark looked confused.

"I want to show you. That I can do magic, without fucking up." He glanced around the coffee shop. "Just maybe... not in here, since we're surrounded by breakable stuff, and there are so many people nearby?"

The coffee shop was pretty damn empty, but there was a decent amount of hustle and bustle on the street outside.

"Would it be dangerous?" Mark looked nervous.

"Oh, no," said Jack quickly. "It's... my magic works by... I track beats," he said, and okay, that just sounded kinda dumb. "But not, like... not like club beats. Like real beats. And when there are other beats around, I end up getting confused, because there are so many things to include."

"So you want to take me to a dark, secluded part of the city to show me that you're not a magical screw up?"

"... got a back alley?"

Mark looked thoughtful. 

Then his lips curved up into a grin, and he glanced over his shoulder.

"Can you cover for me?" He asked the other barista, a woman with purple and green corn rows. 

She waggled her eyebrows at Mark, who snorted, but she gave him a thumbs up.

Mark took off his apron, and he looked expectantly at Jack. 

"Well?"

* * * 

They stood in the alley, and Jack took out his drumsticks this time - ash, for growing things - and he took a deep breath.

The alley didn't exactly smell nice, but it was quieter - the only heartbeats he could really pick up were the rats scurrying about in the trash, and they were small and fast enough that he could ignore them, as he began to let the beat of his own heart wash over him, like so much water, as the beat began to throb in his head like the worst migraine headache.

He began to stomp his feet, slowly, carefully, and he had the drumsticks out, and was beginning to drum against the rim of the dumpster, the quick, easy rhythm of his heart, interspersed here and there with the little hearts of the rats. Mark's heart was a familiar steady throb nearby. 

He kept his eyes closed, and he cast down... deeper, looking for something alive.

And he found it.

There was a dandelion growing in a crack in the concrete, and he kept his concentration narrow, keeping up his stomping and his drumming, ticking with his mouth, swaying from side to side. 

He used his magic, and it slid through his whole body, to flow into the dandelion, letting the beat just swell and swell, like some kind of orchestral finish, the world's quietest aural orgasm. 

And then he broke it off, with a final "stomp," leaving him standing there and panting.

The dandelion had grown.

It had grown to be up to Jack's waist, and when he turned around to look at Mark, panting and still exhilarated, Mark's expression was amazed.

"Holy shit," said Mark, and he was breathing heavily. "You really can do magic! Real magic!"

"I did say I could," Jack said, a tad reproachful.

"But... wow," said Mark.

"I want to kiss you," Jack blurted out.

"... what?"

"Kiss you. Can I kiss you?"

Mark took a step forward, nervously, and Jack took one as well, avoiding the dandelion that was between them.

He pressed his lips to Mark's, and it was dry, and electric - Mark's heart beat in Jack's head, like the throbbing pulse of a dance club.

* * * 

They traded phone numbers.

They texted, on and off.

Mark was pretty busy - he had two jobs these days, until he found some new roommates to help him pay the rent, and in the meantime, he ran around like a really well muscled chicken with its head cut off.

He kissed Jack some more, though - by kitchen at his second job where he tended bar one slow night, in front of Holly's apartment when he walked by with Jack towards his own apartment. 

And Jack's heart sang, every time. 

Although it was getting harder to meditate - his magic was trying to spill out, and he was constantly drumming his fingers, tapping his toes. 

"What's gotten into you lately?" Holly asked, not unkindly, when Jack, while trying to meditate, had accidentally made it rain flower petals, as he clicked his teeth in time with the new beat that was throbbing through his head.

"Maybe his new guy?" Suzy was grinning, leaning against the door frame and drinking her own tea. 

"I've had new people before," Jack said plaintively, picking rose petals out of his green hair. "It's not usually this... much."

"Maybe you should look into new forms of meditation," Holly said. "I know there are some that involve drumming, or dancing."

"You think that'd work for me? I know that me drumming is a bad idea if I'm not concentrating on anything in particular." 

The choice of not having to just sit here, counting his breaths, when his whole body just wanted to _move_ , sounded like heaven.

"I'll look into it," Holly said, thoughtful. "We need to present some of your progress to the head of the coven anyway, when the solstice comes."

Jack groaned, covering his face with both hands.

He'd have to figure something out. 

But for now....

"I'm gonna go to the bar," he told Holly, standing up and stretching.

His legs had cramped, staying in that one position for so long. 

"Any particular bar?" Holly looked amused.

"... the Crocodile," said Jack, and maybe he was blushing a bit, but nobody was going to say something, right?

"Isn't that where Mark is working?" 

Suzy's tone was so innocent, and Jack resisted the urge to give her a Look. 

"Yep," said Jack. "He's picking up a shift tonight."

He made his way towards the front door, shoving his feet into his shoes and brushing the flower petals out of his hair.

He needed to move - maybe walking to the bar would help, maybe dancing a bit. 

Some booze would also calm his nerves, but his magic always did weird things when alcohol was involved.

But fuck it, worst case scenario Mark would be busy, he'd say hello, then he'd go home.

* * * 

Mark wasn't busy.

There was one other person in it, and it was an old regular, drinking his pint and reading the newspaper. 

Jack came down the stairs, into the wide open space, and he sat on a bar stool.

Mark saw him, and he smiled.

"You're here early," he said to Jack.

"Since the weather is so nice, I figured I'd walk instead of taking the bus," said Jack, and he was blushing a bit, although hopefully it was harder to see in the dim lighting. 

"That must be why we don't have anyone in tonight," said Mark. "Nobody wants to come to our bar, before we've got our back patio open."

"You have a back patio?" 

Jack was intrigued. 

"Yeah, but it still needs to be cleaned up - it's got leaves and a lot of snow dirt."

"... snow dirt?"

"Yeah," said Mark. "You know, when the snow gets dirty, so more snow covers it, and then more dirt, and then more snow, until the snow melts, and you've just got these fucking... drifts of dirt?"

"... we don't get much snow in Ireland," said Jack. "I don't have a lot of experience."

"Well," said Mark. "It's something."

"So, uh... you busy?" Jack was resisting the urge to press his knees together, or tap his toes.

He'd been drumming on the surface of the bar, and he hadn't even been realizing it, until he caught sight of the orange blossom that had been growing out of the bottle of Triple Sec. 

... what was it with him and flowers, lately? 

He stilled his hands, and then had to fight off the urge to bounce his leg.

He smiled at Mark again. 

"Yes," Mark said, deadpan. "Absolutely bustling. I'm only stopping in my blitz of drink making because my hands will fall off from all the excess use."

Jack stood on his tiptoes, on the metal bar that ran around the base of the bar, and he kissed Mark, gently, a quick press of lips on lips.

Mark's hand went to Jack's cheek, cradling it, and then he pulled back, looking embarrassed.

"I shouldn't be kissing you in front of customers," he said. 

"I'm sorry," Jack said, genuinely chagrined.

He hadn't thought of that.

"... hey Molly," Mark called, and he was blushing very hard, hard enough that it was even obvious in the dimness, "can you cover for me for, like, twenty minutes?"

She gave him a big juicy wink, and she gave a thumbs up.

Mark came out from behind the bar, and he took Jack's hand.

"How would you like some privacy?" 

Mark spoke directly in Jack's ear, and goosebumps spread, making Jack shiver, licking his lips. 

"That'd be nice," Jack allowed. "I like privacy."

"You would, as big as your family was," Mark said, and now he sounded amused, not using his sexy growl right in Jack's ear.

"Just please don't make out with me in the men's bathroom, please," Jack said, his voice plaintive. "I don't want to start associating kissing you with bad smells, because there will be some _weird_ wires crossed in my head."

"You kissed me in an alleyway once," Mark said, and Jack didn't have to see him to know he was rolling his eyes.

"It was nice,” Jack said, and he laughed, as he was pulled into a nearby closet. "Anyway, I needed some dirt. Just... maybe not such smelly dirt."

"You sound like you're some kind of private eye, "looking for some dirt,"" said Mark, his tone fond.

He stopped in front of a closet, and he unlocked it with the keys that were attached to the chain on his belt loop.

Jack was pulled into the dim, slightly musty darkness.

* * * 

It was the liquor closet.

Jack could make out the labels, from the bits and pieces of light sliding through the cracks under and around the door. 

Mark had pushed him against the door, and was kissing him.

Kissing Jack with his whole mouth, his tongue sliding against the seam of Jack's lips, his breath steamy against Jack's face.

Jack kissed him back, as Mark's hands went up to his hair, tangling in the green there, pulling.

Then Mark paused, pulling back. 

"What's in your hair?" Mark sounded intrigued.

"I kind of... made it rain flower petals," said Jack. He pressed his face into the sweaty familiarity of Mark's neck, kissing along the other man's jaw. "When I was trying to meditate."

"Wow," said Mark. "You really... your magic is really intense."

"It's not that intense, I don't think," said Jack, and his hands were around Mark's waist, pulling Mark closer, as he began to kiss Mark again, nibbling on Mark's lower lip, then kissing lower, to find Mark's hammering pulse.

He pressed his lips against it, letting the beat of it fill his whole head, as he pressed his other hand on Mark's chest, his fingers splayed out, and Mark's heart was beating faster, and his own heart was beating faster, and then Mark was kissing his mouth again, and Jack's whole head was throbbing with the beat, his hands tapping, shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

He kissed Mark back, as hard as he could, with his mouth, with his breath, his hands tugging on Mark’s hair, and he was almost swooning, his eyes squeezed shut, his heart hammering a staccato beat, to be answered by the beat of Mark’s heart, and the two beats rushed through him, until he was tapping his fingers, bouncing on his heels, grinding his hips, all in the same beat, the one-two, one-two beat, the both of them being encircled by it, filling Jack’s whole being.

The magic in his head was building and building, like a crescendo, up and up and up and up….

And then it broke, like an orgasm, like a sneeze, a great burst of energy just flying out of him.

And then there was a “pop” sound, and everything went black. 

* * * 

Jack blinked his eyes open.

He was lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, and someone had put a plaster alligator there, but it wasn’t the whole alligator.

It was the head of the alligator, the body of the alligator, and the tail, as if it were swimming through the ceiling. 

And then Mark’s face was in his face, looking annoyed and worried.

“Are you okay?” 

“What happened?”

“Well, I found out that we’ve got champagne here, which was a surprise and a half, let me tell you,” said Mark. 

“Champagne?”

“Something or other happened, and you made a champagne bottle… basically explode, and the cork hit you in the side of the head, which knocked you out. So,” said Mark, making a face, “you now owe the bar for the bottle of champagne, and everyone knows that we were making out in the closet.”

Jack chuckled, looking up at Mark.

“You have beautiful eyes,” he told Mark. “And your heart beats like the heart of the universe.”

“... thank you?” Mark looked confused, but touched in spite of himself. 

“Next time,” said Jack, “maybe let’s stay away from champagne.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Mark agreed. “You gonna be okay?”

“I should probably call Holly.”

“She’s gonna kill me,” said Mark. 

“Holly would never kill anyone,” said Jack, “and she’d never kill someone I was romancing, unless they did something especially stupid.”

… wait, shit.

Was that too presumptuous? 

“I’m gonna hold you up to that,” said Mark. “Now let’s get you upright, and you can pay for that champagne.”

“Always about the money with you,” Jack teased, sitting up carefully, rubbing his head. 

“Then I’ll walk you home,” said Mark.

Jack’s magic could pick up on his heart, beating faster. His own heart sped up, and he smiled at Mark, as his head throbbed with the combined beat.

**Author's Note:**

> Like this fic? Check out my Tumblr, theseusinthemaze.tumblr.com!
> 
> This was written in HerbertBest's Two Good Witches Universe! I highly recommend you check it out!


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